Jet Lag
by Phantom Gypsy
Summary: At first, Matt was afraid that Mello wasn't going to let him sleep. There was, after all, only one bed and Mello's tone of voice implied the last thing he wanted to do was lay down and rest.  Yaoi
1. Home

**A/N: And here we go again ^_^**

* * *

Seated on a bench just outside of baggage claim, Matt calmly listened to the chaos of roaring buses and squealing breaks and that annoying intercom voice that insisted any unattended baggage would be confiscated. The cold air was thick with engine exhaust, making it difficult for him to enjoy his own cigarette, which at the moment, was the only thing keeping him relatively warm.

He lifted his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen, a little dismayed when he saw no new messages. His last message from Mello was nearly two days old, informing him that his plane from London left in five hours. Matt reread it for what must've been the eighth time and let the smallest of grins crease his lips.

_British Airways, Flight 558._

_Leaves at 6:30 p.m._

_Your ass had better be on it. _

So, hearing Mello's voice in his head as he read the message, Matt had packed a small duffle bag of belongings, hired a taxi to the Heathrow airport, and hopped on a flight that took him halfway around the world to Japan. Nearly 28 hours later, he had yet to hear a single word from his friend.

It was a little unnerving, devious and rude, but Matt couldn't imagine it any other way. Mello operated on Mello's terms and Mello would call when Mello wanted to. That's just the way Mello was.

Matt reached for the small bag between his feet, realizing that he could be sitting at the airport all night and day if he waited for Mello to contact him. He slung the bag over his shoulder and hailed a taxi, cursing the wintry cold air that bit through his gloves.

"Where you go?"

The small man in the driver's seat swung open Matt's door for him and a waft of old carpet upholstery and warm, smoky air rushed out to meet him.

He threw his bag onto the floor in front of the seat.

"Hotel."

Just as he was about to sit, he caught a sleek, dark shape out of the corner of his orange-tinted vision. Amidst the grating noise of ancient bus brakes and dying horns being blared at pedestrians, he heard the suave purring of something that anyone with half an ear would describe as downright sexy; a jet-black Ferrari.

The sleek vehicle came to a halt, even as the engine revved almost musically, demanding the attention of everyone in a two-mile radius. The driver emerged and Matt grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. The blonde sauntered over to the front of the car and leaned against the hood. Black leather pants, combat boots that reached his shins, sleeveless leather vest and a matching black fur coat to complete the ensemble. Matt decided the two belonged in a fashion magazine. Or a museum of modern art.

While the rest of the terminal turned their heads towards the extravagant individual, Matt recollected his bag.

"Sorry. Change of plans."

He made sure to slam the door shut before the taxi driver could say anything and stomped out his cigarette on the sidewalk. He could feel those electric blue eyes on him, waiting as patiently as that hot blood of his would allow and when Matt finally looked up, the two men met each other's gazes for the first time in nearly five years.

Matt crossed the road, ignoring the shuttle bus that blared its horn at him for not using the crosswalk, and kept his gaze fixed on the lavish hood ornament that was Mello.

"Really, Mel? A Ferrari?"

"Well it's not like I was gonna pick you up with the bike."

"Sure."

For five years Matt had dwelled on the image of a young 14-year old boy with cornflower-gold hair and a girlish figure strutting around the orphanage, lashing out at anyone who so much as brushed shoulders with him in the hallways. Back then, those bright blue eyes demanded life's answers, blazing with the untold promise of what he would do if he failed to get them.

But that image vanished like thin smoke in the wind as he looked at Mello standing before him. No longer a boy, but a young man that had grown too fast in too short a time; the visage of someone who had all of life's answers thrown back at him at once, where they now resided as a fresh burn scar on the side of his beautiful face. Matt tried hard not to stare at the angry discoloration that encompassed his Mello's skin. He didn't want to imagine the pain his friend had endured to become this damaged ghost of an angel.

Matt sank into his seat, relishing the heat that radiated from the leather cushion, and threw his legs up on the dashboard, pretending not to see the disapproving glare from Mello. The blonde gripped the steering wheel with his leather gloves, took a hard bite out of one of his many unfinished chocolate bars littering the cup holders, then roared out of the terminal and into the grey, snowy landscape.

After a quick stop at a convenience store (they had confiscated Matt's lighter at the airport), Mello drove on into the core of the city, disregarding every road sign and traffic rule ever devised. Matt grinned. His friend didn't play video games; he _lived_ one.

"Don't you fucking light up in here."

Trying not to smile, Matt clicked open the little flame and touched it to the end of his cigarette. Sweet, warm nicotine flooded his blood and he leaned his head back, blowing gray smoke into the ceiling.

"All right, look." Matt grinned at Mello's voice. Pissed was an understatement. "If we're gonna do this, there's gonna be one rule."

Matt's green eyes slid over to Mello. "Oh, really?"

"It's _my_ fucking apartment." The redhead chuckled. "And you will not smoke in it. If you want, you can go out on the balcony and smoke your brains out, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. I've missed you too, Mello."

The apartment—no, _Mello's_ apartment—was nestled deep within the shady slums of the city. The complex itself was littered with garbage and adorned with bright blue and pink graffiti all along the dingy brown walls. Glancing up at the rooms stacked on top of each other, Matt saw raggedy curtains closed against filmy windows, most of which looked like they'd been hit with a baseball. Or two.

So pulling a world-class Ferrari into a rat hole of a garage seemed a bit strange, but Matt shrugged it off as another one of Mello's idiosyncrasies and obediently followed the blonde up to the small room. A tiny living area furnished with chairs that looked as comfortable as rocks, a grimy little window with moth-eaten curtains, a bathroom that Matt was afraid to venture into, and a small bedroom cast off to the side; this was Mello's domain, his kingdom that he so proudly ruled and protected. Regardless of the post-apocalyptic-bomb-shelter ambience, Matt welcomed the room with a heavy sigh; it was warm, it was quiet, and it reeked of Mello. It was home.

* * *

**A/N: You know it can't stop here ;) **


	2. All Or Nothing

**A/N: So I must say I'm quite proud of the angst in this chapter. **

* * *

"I gotta admit, it's been pretty quiet at the orphanage since you and Near left."

Matt bent down and plugged in the last of his electronic toys, having drained them on the 12-hour flight from Europe to Asia. Mello was draped across the ancient couch with all the opulence of a prized leopard skin, one arm slung over the back and one leather-bound leg hanging off the edge.

"Have you talked to Near at all?" Matt asked, easing himself into one of the chairs across from Mello.

"A little. We agreed that whoever manages to capture Kira first is the winner. Freakin' runt's working with the SPK, but all he does is sit and play with his damned toys all day. Like he doesn't even care."

Matt's fingers itched for a cigarette. Maybe living with Mello would help him kick the habit; or lessen it at least. Or maybe it would just drive him insane.

"I don't get it." The blonde hung one of his gloved hands over his hip, inevitably drawing Matt's eye to that sinfully tantalizing skin. "How can he just treat it like another puzzle? I mean this is the world we're dealing with. You can't be indifferent with something like this. And he's always been that way; he never has to try and he never gives a shit. You know what he said when L died?" Matt shook his head. "He called him a loser. Just because he couldn't solve the case."

Matt threw his head back and stared at the fissure cracks in the ceiling.

"Yeah, that sounds like Near. But you said it yourself, Mel. He's always been that way, and he always will be. No point in getting all pissed about it."

Mello made a little noise in the back of his throat and resigned to glaring at one of Matt's boots.

"Oh, that reminds me! I got you something at Heathrow."

Mello watched curiously as the redhead shoveled through his duffle bag, scattering several extra pairs of jeans and shirts aside until he pulled out a small purple rectangle.

Matt tossed the candy bar towards Mello, who snatched it out of midair with one gloved hand.

"Cadbury." Mello flipped the chocolate bar over, the corners of his lips tugging as a small grin tried to break through. For Matt, that almost-smile in itself was enough to make the long flight with the screaming kids seated behind him, the bitter cold, the confiscation of his favorite lighter and the heavy jet lag more than worthwhile.

"Matt?" The redhead blinked. Mello was never this quiet. "Why'd you come? Was it just 'cause I told you to?"

Matt shifted in his chair, willing his heavy eyelids to stay open. "Under pain of death." He meant it as a joke, but those blue eyes only darkened. Why had he agreed to come? Was it because he was bored back in England? Was it because he wanted to help catch Kira? Or because he felt bound to serve Mello and abide by his every whim?

No. He knew the true answer; he just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"…sorry."

Matt's eyes snapped open. Mello's head hung heavy on his neck, his face hidden behind his flaxen hair. The blood-red rosary swayed between his knees. "I don't…I don't mean for it to be like this."

With a frustrated grunt, Mello stood and walked over to the cloudy mirror hanging on the opposite wall, staring silently at his reflection. Without a word, he reached up and gingerly touched his own burnt skin, trailing one leather finger from his eye to his jaw.

"After I escaped, I…I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if…"

"Mello."

"Fuck, I was afraid, all right?" Wild anger pierced his words again. "All I knew was that I wanted you here. If I hadn't survived, then that means the last words I ever said to you would've been 'you don't understand.' I was afraid I would never see you again. So I'm sorry if it annoys you…sorry that I order you around like some dog. I don't want it to be like this, but…damn it, Matt, I was so afraid."

His fist flew faster than a rattlesnake's bite and the mirror shattered into dozens of glistening shards, showering Mello with beautiful, deadly confetti.

Matt closed his eyes, letting the crippling truth seep in.

Not _if_, but _when_.

_When _Mello dies, he wants Matt to be there. _When _the world collapses into a smoldering world of ash and blood and fire, Mello needs him to be there. _When_ it came time to face his death, he wanted Matt to show him how to be brave. Mello had already promised himself that his own life was the price he would pay for his self-destructive methods; it was etched into half his face.

_It's always been this way, Mello. You've always sacrificed everything. All or nothing. _

Matt stood and silently glided over to where the blonde stood, peering into his reflection that lay in pieces on the floor.

"Mello."

After a moment, Mello turned his lost and distant blue eyes on Matt. Too tired to keep his own eyes open anymore, Matt drifted closer, leaning in until his lips brushed the charred skin just below Mello's eye.

"Missed you."

He hovered for a moment, breathing softly against the marbled scar, waiting for Mello to take that breath he'd been holding for the past minute.

A strangled noise passed Mello's lips and he suddenly threw his arms around Matt's back, clutching him so tightly Matt could feel his nails through his vest. He placed another gentle kiss on Mello's naked shoulder and secured his own grip around the blonde's narrower waist. After spending several minutes lost in each other's embrace, Mello nuzzled his way through Matt's hair until they were finally nose to nose, staring at each other with eyes at half-mast.

Some would say that the act of kissing is a mutual art, which in most cases, it is. But Matt was struggling just to keep himself awake to remain standing upright, let alone respond to his friend's passionate, open-mouthed kisses. He gladly let Mello assume control, groaning tiredly as his the blonde drank in the taste of his mouth like a man that was dying of thirst. Mello tried coaxing Matt's lifeless tongue to come play, skillfully nibbling at it with his own teeth and tongue. Eventually, after he'd even slipped his black leather gloves under Matt's shirt (that was usually the winning trick) and the redhead still showed no enthusiasm, Mello pulled away, though he left his fingers hooked into Matt's belt loops.

"What is it?"

Matt grinned mindlessly; the kind of delirious smirk that says you're either about to drop dead of exhaustion or burst into giddy laughter for no reason whatsoever.

"I'm so fucking tired."

Mello stepped back, a wry smile of his own contorting his marred face.

"Then let's go to bed."

* * *

**A/N: I know, it's too short. **

**I know, I need to write more. **

**I know, it should be illegal to enjoy this as much as we do ^_^**


	3. How To Handle A Firework

**A/N: I once had noble ambitions to be a good, respectable author...what the hell happened? =P **

* * *

At first, Matt was afraid that Mello wasn't going to let him sleep.

There was, after all, only one bed and Mello's tone of voice implied the last thing he wanted to do was lay down and rest.

Matt discarded his goggles and boots and staggered over to the couch, assuming that since this was _Mello's_ apartment, it was _Mello's _bed and was therefore off limits. But the blonde snagged him by the back of his shirt, dragged him into the bedroom and practically pushed him onto of the comforter.

"I said bed, idiot," Mello mumbled.

Matt, too tired to protest, fell like a lead weight, his eyes collapsing the second he landed face-first in a pile of black pillows. Mello watched him for a moment, a strange sense of calm washing over him as he listened to him breathe. Matt was here, he was safe…hell, he was in his _bed_!

Mello left the room before the overpowering urge to jump his friend got the better of him. He fluttered about the apartment, spending the better part of his time feasting on chocolate while he sat in front of his laptop. Although he found it near impossible to focus on the Kira case knowing Matt was sleeping—very vulnerably—in the next room.

Four hours later, Matt woke to the sound of running water and hot steam flowing in from the bathroom across the hall. Groaning, Matt buried his face deeper into one of the silk pillows and sighed. He hadn't slept that hard in a long time and was a little peeved that he'd been woken so easily. Try as he might to fall back into his peaceful, dead-to-the-world slumber, Matt could not escape the rousing scent of Mello that permeated the pillow and eventually rolled over onto his back.

The room was dark, save for one small lamp that gave off a soft orange glow, casting amber light and grey shadows. The door across the hall swung open, waves of steam spilling out in a way that reminded Matt of the foggy October mornings back in England. Mello was standing in front of the mirror, dressed only in a tattered pair of faded jeans and the beaded rosary hanging flat against his pale chest.

Matt peered down the length of the bed and caught sight of the entire scar for the first time. The thing was massive; it started on the left side of his forehead, across his eye and cheek, down his neck and wrapped all the way around his shoulder and part of his back. He watched as Mello carefully dipped his hands in a small container and spread some kind of ointment on the scarred skin, making it glisten under the glaring bathroom lights. Somewhat hypnotized, Matt counted the little rhythmic circles Mello drew onto his neck and shoulder until he noticed his friend struggling to reach the small portion of his back.

"Here," Matt sat up. "Let me do it."

Mello's face was unreadable. He hesitated for a moment, blue eyes watching as Matt began to pull off his own elbow-length gloves, then slowly, deliberately, he grabbed the jar and walked stiffly into the bedroom.

He sat cross-legged in front of Matt and silently passed back the balm. After pausing for a moment to admire the creamy white of Mello's slender back, Matt scooped out a dab of ointment and tenderly brushed it onto the angry spider web of red veins and tightly stretched skin. The blonde flinched.

"Does it hurt?" Matt asked.

"No, it's just cold."

Matt rubbed his hands, warming the gel-like substance, and tried again. This time, Mello stayed perfectly still beneath his touch.

"You remember saying that?" Matt said quietly, doing his best to keep his voice level and concentrate on applying the ointment.

Mello turned his head. "Saying what?"

"That day you left the orphanage. You remember what you said?"

Grateful that his back was facing his friend, Mello stared at the floor and subconsciously grabbed for the cross hanging around his neck.

"How could I forget?"

* * *

_Matt stood silently in the doorway, watching his friend pack. "I don't want you to go." _

_"I don't care." _

_ "Take me with you."_

_ "No." _

_ "Please, Mello."_

_ "I said no, Matt! I have to do this on my own!"_

_ "But I can help." _

_ "No, you can't! This has nothing to do with you! Now get out of here!" _

_ "But I just want—"_

_ Mello yanked the zipper shut. "Look, I don't care what you want! This is my decision and you'd only get in the way!"  
"Of what? Of your contest with Near? Is that really all you care about?"_

_ "No! It's more than that!"_

_Matt could feel the hot tears boiling in his throat. "Liar." _

_ "Call me what you want. It's not like I'd expect you to understand. You'd never understand."_

_ Mello shoved his way past Matt and never looked back, oblivious to the tears of hurt that dripped from those green eyes._

_

* * *

_

"Ya know what, Mello?" He looked back over his shoulder, feeling the breath of Matt's whisper on his sensitive skin. "I think I understand now."

His lips ghosted across the burn on Mello's shoulder, making the skin all along Mello's arm prickle in delight. In one, swift movement, he turned on Matt, kissing him so hard on the mouth that the redhead grunted and fell backwards into the plush down comforter; exactly where Mello wanted him.

Mello crawled over to his friend and regarded the hazy-eyed prize beneath him, dragging his thumb over red lips. His other hand worked to unzip that hideous vest and drag it off of Matt's shoulders, until all that lay beneath him was that striped shirt that showed off the musculature of his friend's arms and chest. It was Matt who finally reached up and tightly encircled his arms around Mello's neck, pulling him down on top of him.

Kissing Mello was like trying to handle a firework; stupidly dangerous and ridiculously fun. The blonde had a habit of gently intertwining their tongues, nudging his way deeper into Matt's mouth with an intoxicating blend of soft moans and soft caresses underneath Matt's shirt. Then, just when Matt thought he could peacefully surrender to his partner's light touches and playful tongue, Mello would suddenly explode and bite down hard on his lip or dig his nails into his back and with a newfound aggression, passionately try to evoke a pained whimper or groan from the redhead.

Sometime during the chaos that Matt spent trying not to give in to Mello's little game of "Let's-Make-Matt-Squeal-First", Mello had managed to strip his friend of his shirt and was now gently kissing his way down Matt's neck, pausing now and then to leave little purple marks with his teeth. Matt slid his hands into the back pockets of Mello's jeans, anchoring their hips together with a steadfast grip.

Mello's tongue left fire everywhere it went and his equally skillful hands greedily roamed over his torso, tracing every single contour and outline of Matt's chest; a favorite pastime of Mello's. But the moment his fingers flirted with the tender skin below Matt's navel, Mello saw the fierce blush heating his friend's cheeks, heard the strangled moans he kept trapped his throat. Matt arched into his friend's touch, struggling to find any way to release the awful ache that was making his blood hot and heavy.

Mello dove his tongue back into Matt's mouth, redoubling his efforts to hear that heavy groan pass his lips.

"You ate your Cadbury bar."

Mello smiled devilishly, never letting his lips part from Matt's. "You can tell?"

The redhead nodded. "Is that gross or what?"

"Could've been worse. Could've been onion rings."

Matt chuckled, making it hard for Mello to kiss his smiling mouth, so he pressed his forehead against Matt's and looked down into those dark emerald eyes. This close, he could even see the few freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose.

Mesmerized by the way his friend was looking at him as if he were a delectable dessert, Matt wasn't paying attention to Mello's southbound hand until he suddenly heard the click of his jean buttons as Mello's fingers popped them open, one by one.

Mello pried the jeans away from Matt's legs with ease, as if he'd done this a thousand times before, and he leaned in to kiss him again. He ran his fingers along the inside of Matt's waistband, tugging and toying with the elasticity, making Matt's abdominal muscles ripple and twitch at the soft sensation.

_Damn that Mello._

Aware that he was losing his self-control very quickly, Matt forced himself out of the dizzy stupor Mello had imposed on him, grabbed two handfuls full of golden hair, and rolled the blonde onto his back.

"You can't have all the fun, Mello."

Looking very relaxed, Mello threw his hands behind his head and grinned in a way that made Matt incapable of sitting still.

"Wanna bet?"

* * *

**A/N: I dunno when I decided that Mello doesn't sleep in true pj's, but for some reason I couldn't see him wandering about in checkered bottoms or a tank shirt. Real men wear jeans to bed. LOL **


	4. Remedy

**A/N: I spent forever pondering this question for Mello: Boxers or briefs? Or…nothing? xD**

** Also, yaoi fics are great for practicing sentence creativity. They force you to think of creative ways to describe a character or play with your sentence structure so that it doesn't get repetitive. So that being said, I think we should all write smut! LOL**

* * *

No matter how hard he tried, Matt's hands always seemed to find their way back to Mello's burned skin. His fingers, infatuated with the smooth texture, lingered lovingly on Mello's neck, giving Matt the chance to sweep Mello's mouth into his. While he gently parted Mello's lips with strong, warm thrusts of his tongue, he stroked back the golden hair that hid his scarred forehead, savoring every imperfection he touched; every dimple, every rose-colored crinkle that told of his friend's self-inflicted suffering. And now, Matt was determined to heal as much of it as he could.

Matt turned his lips onto the other boy's cheek, once again enraptured by the glass-like surface of the scar. He glided down Mello's jaw, ignoring the fact that his friend was still playing with the hem of his boxers, threatening to delve beneath them at any moment. He gently nibbled on the blonde's shoulder, alternating between heavy strokes with his tongue and clipping lightly with his teeth. Mello's breathing grew heavier, huskier, the faint sound of his deeper voice escaping past his lips. Matt trailed his hands down Mello's tightly drawn stomach, drawing torturous patterns on the area just above his jeans, and the blonde arched up into his touch, as if to remind him that only one of them was free of their clothing.

Happily obliging, Matt undid the zipper and pulled the jeans away, never taking his mouth from Mello's. Dexterous fingers, trained by endless hours of gaming with buttons and joysticks, flirted with the black briefs and Mello growled low in his throat.

Matt tried to politely re-enter Mello's mouth, pleading with mild sweeps of his tongue and gently sipping on his lips, but the blonde would have none of his well-mannered passion. Each time Mello parted his lips, it was only to boldly claim Matt's mouth with his own, roughly biting down on Matt's lips or ransacking the inside of his mouth with a tongue that knew no mercy. The redhead could hear himself panting, struggling to maintain the chivalrous composure that Mello was so determined to break.

And it always worked. In the end, Mello always got what he wanted. All it took was one thing to push his friend over the edge; one bite too many or one touch too far. This time, it was Mello's fingers venturing beneath Matt's boxers, pulling on the elastic waistband, and letting it slingshot back against his friend's hips with a loud _snap!_

Matt snarled deep in his chest and Mello shivered helplessly against the sound. Without pause, Matt grabbed each of Mello's hands and pinned them to the bed sheets. He then dove for the creamy white of Mello's throat, kissing him in way that should've been forbidden. Swimming in a daze of hot sweat and the sound of blood pounding through his ears, Mello groaned and pushed his hips against Matt's, the thin cotton of their under garments hardly a barrier anymore.

When he was convinced that he had subdued Mello into submission, Matt kissed him once, and then opened his eyes to look at his partner. That beautiful scarred face was contorted in blissful torture and his head was thrown back against the pillows, displaying the painful-looking purple splotches that were beginning to surface on his neck. He released one of Mello's hands, simultaneously closing in to brush his mouth against those pouting lips. This time, Mello passively accepted Matt's slow, warm kisses and even found the compliant grace to return the gesture.

With his free hand, Matt slowly trailed his way down Mello's chest, across the flat plains of his stomach and onto those perfectly shaped thighs. With Mello's swirling tongue urging him on, he swiftly cupped his hand against the distended briefs and pressed deeper into Mello's mouth.

The blonde gasped and his arm shot out, grabbing the strongest, sturdiest thing it could find; Matt's arm.

"Matt."

Matt gave the smallest of nods and slung the comforter over their bodies, enveloping them in an everlasting black night where the only world that existed was composed of warm skin and satin sheets.

* * *

Matt woke some time in the middle of the night. He was lying on his back with Mello fast asleep on his chest, nestled into the crook of his neck and breathing softly against Matt's jaw. The young man stared up at the ceiling, following the path of a hazardous crack that looked like a second-grader's sketch of the Eiffel tower.

Mello never stirred, not even when Matt wrapped his arm around his friend and combed his fingers through that beautiful mane of gold. His other hand rested on the middle of Mello's back, exactly where he remembered leaving it when they both first fell asleep.

Seeing the blonde out cold brought a smile to Matt's face. It was good for him. Like a high-strung, hot-blooded horse, his friend needed to be unleashed from time to time, allowed to kick and bite and channel all those powerful, pent-up emotions that had so often earned him a seat in the detention office or detained him in some corner of the room because he couldn't "play nice" with the other kids. Matt realized he was the only one who could be Mello's outlet, even if meant enduring his violent outbursts or hurtful words or his awful biting habits (seductive though they were). He was the only one who cared enough, who _understood _enough to see past the fire scar and constant swearing and risqué leather confines. Because past all that was the Mello no one would ever know; a very quiet, introverted young man who was just as susceptible to the world's evils as anyone else. Because this larger-than-life person would die before he'd let anyone see that he cared too strongly for everything, and was therefore attached to nothing.

As his thoughts of his best friend grew stronger and deeper, Matt hugged him closer and nuzzled his nose into Mello's hair. If only he could meld into that leathery-cocoa smell, the sound of his peaceful breathing, those blue eyes.

"Mihael."

Matt blinked. He hadn't even meant to say anything, let alone whisper Mello's real name into the dark room. The other boy didn't move. Only the tranquil rising and falling of his back assured Matt he was even alive. Grinning softly to himself, he grazed the back of his hand across Mello's pearly skin and stroked his friend's back until the heavy pull of sleep dragged him into darkness once more.

* * *

Mello spent most of his morning sitting slouched in the windowsill and watching the sun spill fiery orange rays across the snowy cityscape. Having abandoned the warm bed, he slipped into his favorite pair of leather pants and settled into the small ledge beside the window, long legs dangling onto the floor below. Glancing down at his chest, he smirked and absentmindedly fingered the wine-colored love bites scattered across his skin. The memory of the night before was a mess. All he could remember was the rub of slick skin and incoherent cries coming from both of them as they dissolved into a hot, nerve-blowing ecstasy that Mello thought impossible to achieve. Even now, he could still hear Matt's husky, breathless voice crying out his name.

The sun was high enough that it began to cast rays through the window, showering half of Mello's body in white-gold light, while the other half remained hidden in dark shadow.

_Matt. Why did I bring you here?_

It wasn't fair. Sine the very first day Mello had stepped over the threshold into Wammy's Orphanage, he knew that he'd been cheated out of his own life. Sure, he'd been rescued from his abusive, alcoholic parents, only to be shoved in a room full of other ingenious children and expected to survive on his own, without any guidance or encouragement; he was expected to become that prestigious successor, the godsend clone of the world's greatest detective. Seeing his premade future ahead of him and realizing that he had been denied himself, Mello had done anything he could to break that mold. He dressed in all black, learned every swear word ever invented, initiated daily fistfights with the other children in an attempt to fight off his unjust fate. Perhaps, he thought, if he broke every rule, endorsed every taboo, the world wouldn't want anything to do with him and he could win back his stolen freedom.

But then there was this one redhead who found him on this one afternoon, sitting on the bed, brooding silently. Even though Mello shot him the meanest, coldest glare he could muster, the boy still had the audacity to calmly walk across the room and lay himself across Mello's lap, as if it was there just for him.

And that had changed everything.

"Hey, Mel." Mello looked up and saw Matt standing in the bedroom doorway, dressed in his boxer shorts and striped shirt. "You ok?"

"Yeah."

"Not sore, are you?"

"No," he retorted, a little miffed.

Matt smiled. "Good. I was trying to be careful with that delicate physique of yours."

"Fuck you."

Chuckling, Matt walked over to his duffle bag and bent over to retrieve his lighter and carton of cigarettes, unaware that Mello was watching his every move. Or perhaps he did know, and just didn't care.

He pulled out one of the cigarettes with his teeth and flicked his lighter open, cradling the flame to the tip of the butt. Just before he lit, Mello's harsh voice shot across the room.

"Hey! Outside."

Matt glanced out the window and recoiled at the three or so inches of snow piled on top of the balcony railing.

"Are you kidding? Mello, there's snow on the ground."

"So?"

"So it's snow! My ass is gonna freeze out there."

Mello grinned, his eyes suddenly lighting with a mischievous fire. With a poised air usually reserved for kings, he stood up from the windowsill and wandered back towards the bedroom.

"Well," he said smoothly, "I'm sure I know a way to remedy that."

**FIN.**

**

* * *

**

**A/N: Now, I have a surprise for you guys. As a thank you for being such a loyal reading audience, I'm gonna let you in on my secret. I have a link to one of the best Matt/Mello fanart galleries I've ever been to and it is a constant source of inspiration. So, if you're like me in any way (which I assume you all are if you've been reading this far), and enjoy visual treats, then you will definitely appreciate this site. You'll probably even see a few pics that look very familiar from my descriptions LOL Let me know if you want it, and I can send it to you via PM , since I can't seem to post it here. **

**Thank you guys so very, very much! You all make me laugh and you're so much fun to talk to! Hope you enjoyed this pointless, angst-ridden, guilty-indulgence of a story! Have fun now! =D**


End file.
